Expectations

So, we are all sitting in a circle in our house. My two roommates, a young Senegalese college student who lives in our house, and myself. We are playing Uno. Its night time, we have all had a long day and are pretty tiered, but instead of being kinda quiet and lethargic, we are laughing hysterically about almost anything, calling each other chickens, piling up draw twos on each other, you know, the other extreme of tiredness. We are doing this, being ridiculous girls across language barriers, when the village Leader walks in. (note for those not familiar; when I say "Leader", I mean the like the head of their meetings here, the man in charge, you know, everyone knows him, big deal)
He has come to talk to us about the time we are coming to his school the next day to provide basic medical care for his students. No big deal, no one is in trouble, no anger in his eyes or voice, just a friendly visit. However, we are all immediately silent. The laughter stops. The polite curtsies begin. We all begin to subconsciously make sure our skirts are covering as much of our legs as possible. We wonder, yet again how to address him, should we linger and talk, answer his questions so he can go as he is surely a busy man, invite him to play cards...do Leaders play cards?

We are walking down the street and kids run up to greet us. They know us, and we know them. We see them every day, sometimes more, we know some names, and they know all of ours. Every day, the conversation begins the same way, blurred together as if one word; "Bonjour-commo-tu-t'appele?" (French for, "hello, what is your name?") And every day, we respond, in their language, "I dont speak french", and proceed to speak to them in wolof. However, every single day, the same greeting. The same routine... Even some adults, after we greet them in wolof, and we explain that we are from America and don't speak french (okay, a bit of a lie on my part, but we have a purpose in setting ourselves apart from the french people who don't have the best reputation in Senegal) they persist, sometimes almost unconsciously, in this foreign language that none of us can respond in or can understand.

This has made me think of the way we come to our Father sometimes. At the sound of His name we begin immediately to check ourselves, as if a leader has walked in. We respond to Him with formalities and lofty language that we don't mean, don't understand, but feel expected to use.
This has lead me to what people here expect of a higher being. What they are told, what they grow up seeing and hearing. And, the fact that, for so many, this person is not a father, who is comfortable and loving. Someone who will sit and laugh with you. Who will cry with you, hold you. This is someone who needs to be feared when they "walk into a room" when they are encountered 5 times a day...

And, as I ponder all off this, I think of who He really is. I think of who He will be to us if we let Him. I also think of who these people see in me. Will they meet me and continue to assume I'm just any other french person long after Ive walked by? Or will they see something more? Will they see love for those swarms of kids who follow me and sometimes even wait outside my bedroom door for me for hours? Will they see acceptance of the people I live and work with, acceptance and love for them right where they're at? Will they see a servant heart even when no one asks for it, no one appreciates it, no on notices it? Will they be able to forget their french and speak Wolof?

We work in the clinic and are building friendships. We laugh, we sing, we dance, we draw blood, give shots, and run tests in their new "lab". We have talked a little about what we believe, though most already know. Khadija has started and IV on a pregnant woman found passed out in her home.
We work with one talibe house and one Arabic school. Giving band aids, treating fungal infections, cleaning wounds and burns.
We hang out with our family. We cook lunch, we play cards, we give out stickers, we color, we clean.

Most everywhere we go, they know who we are, what we believe. We speak. We speak for them; for visions, for dreams, for hearts to be touched, for our lives to speak for Him, knowing there is no way we can say anything on our own. Though part of me expected everyone to have new questions, be watching soo close, to want more of The Living Word, He is showing me that I am here only to be faithful. To speak, to listen, to wait, to show. And that, is what we are doing. Please speak with us!! Thank you all.


* For those wondering, pictures are coming, we cannot do it at the cybercafe close to us, so we will be going, hopefully soon, to one that has the capabilities, we know where it is now, so keep checking!!!